A beetle fallen in the tub
Could not get out again,
I’d better lift him out, I thought,
Lest he go down the drain.
I saw him slide and slither
But his feet could get no grip…
The more he sought his own escape,
The more I saw him slip.
I knew I had to intervene
And sought for something fit,
But panicking, the beetle fled
And destiny was writ.
Was it my fate to mourn his loss
Or his to drown in muck?
We both of us had done our best
And both ran out of luck.
I really tried to catch the thing,
He ran… I was too late…
And down the drain he disappeared;
There’s no escaping Fate.